Buttons.

Lots and lots of buttons.

This room is absolutely covered in buttons.

They sparkle a million different colours, so many colours.

I have not a single smirk to spare them.

Because I'm playing a game, and have been for a while.

To win, I must press the correct button.

I should think about this, like a rational human.

That button over there cannot be the correct one, for it is blue.

The last time I pressed a blue button, I lost the game.

I look at them for a few hours more, and suddenly realize that every button is blue.

That means the correct button must be blue.

This button is blue. I press it.

Is this correct? Did I win?

No. I didn't.

That's fine. I'll play the game again, and I won't press that one again.

To restart the game, I must blink twice in slow succession.

I blink the first one, and all of the buttons are gone.

Emptiness.

Lots and lots of emptiness.

This room is absolutely covered in emptiness.

I blink the second one, and all of the buttons are back now.

I think I see the one I pressed last time.

I press it again, just to make sure that it was the wrong one.

It is the wrong one. I was correct.

I blink twice again, and play again.

How is this game played, again?

Oh, right.

To win, I must press every button at once.

But how? There's hundreds of buttons. I do not have hundreds of fingers.

Or was it maybe that I'm not supposed to press any buttons at all?

And if so, how long will it be until I win? Until I die.

But I can't die. I am the sum of my buttons, and buttons can't die.

Considering every possibility, I figured it out.

To win, I must press a button.

Any button. No button is correct.

This button is cute. It's a nice shade of pink, ey?

I press it.

I won.

Yay!